


The Wolf in King's Landing

by fullofstarlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Dany and Viserys aren't nice, Emma AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Joffrey Baratheon is a Little Shit, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofstarlight/pseuds/fullofstarlight
Summary: Sansa Stark—the firstborn daughter of Lord Eddard Stark—has mostly grown up contented and pampered for all eighteen years of her life. Her life consists of matchmaking and looking after her widowed father. That is until the Targaryens come to Winterfell and disrupt her once perfect existance.(Rhaegar Wins mixed with Jane Austen's "Emma" AU.)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	The Wolf in King's Landing

**Author's Note:**

> So, the last movie I got to see in theatres was Emma. After watching it, I just couldn't get this fic out of my mind. The romance in Emma is so similar to the dynamic that Jon and Sansa have. So, I recommend you all watch the movie (or better: read the book). This fic is basically Emma in a Rhaegar wins type of scenario. 
> 
> For readers of my other WiP "Rebirth": Don't worry. I'm still working on that fic and have no plans to abandon it. The Battle for Winterfell has been such a hastle to write. I'm really proud of that fic. I do mean to finish it since it's the most well recieved fic I've ever posted.

Sansa Stark—the firstborn daughter of Lord Eddard Stark—has mostly grown up contented and pampered for all eighteen years of her life. Aside from the year of her mother’s passing, her life has gone undisturbed as she graces Winterfell with her beauty and charm. Her only misfortune is the younger sister that vexes her with her weird mannerisms and lack of courtesy. On this important day in which their King is meant to stand before them with his wife and son, her sister continues to frustrate her by standing next to her in a dirtied dress and ruffled hair. 

“Jon will be here soon!” Arya crows.

Sansa rolls her eyes in response. Jon’s name alone annoys her. She hasn’t seen the prince in years now. Sansa was five years of age the first time she and Jon met. Her mother had still been alive then. Lady Catelyn never had many nice things to say about the royal family. So, Sansa had headed the little warnings that her mother had whispered about the Targaryens. Jon and Sansa naturally did not get off of a sure foot. Despite Lady Stark’s passing, Sansa remains distant to the prince.

Sansa straightens her shoulders as King Rhaegar’s carriage rides through the gates. She manages a glance up at Robb—the sibling she has the strongest bond with. Perhaps it is because he is the oldest son just as she is the oldest daughter. Robb will be lord of Winterfell one day with a pretty lady to marry and she will be married into another Great House just like her mother. Sansa had lots of pretty ideas of who she might marry one day. Joffrey Baratheon seemed likely considering how close her father is with Robert Baratheon. But, when her mother fell ill with that horrible fever and left her father alone, Sansa knew that she would have to be the one to look after her dear father. 

So, rather than busy herself with her own fancies, Sansa has turned to meddling with the lives of others around her. Her latest project is finding her dearest friend Jeyne Poole a husband that isn't her father's ward, Theon Greyjoy. Why Jeyne fancies him, Sansa may never know. Not even his own father thinks highly of him which is why Asha Greyjoy will one day lead the Iron Islands. That and her own mother had always told her to never trust a Greyjoy. Sansa will see that her dearest friend does not make that very mistake.

But, that can all wait. For now, Sansa wishes for the king’s visit to be done and over with as soon as possible. Then, she can be rid of the Targaryens and be back to matchmaking. King Rhaegar rides past the carriage on horseback with his son Jon riding by his side on a black horse to match his. The Starks bow in unison. Sansa’s eyes flicker up, accidentally meeting the prince’s gaze. She hates that he looks so much like a Stark. She’d rather him look like his father so that he wouldn’t feel so _familiar_ to Robb or Arya. _Or her_. Sansa shakes that last thought from her mind. She keeps her gaze away from Jon and instead focuses on a particularly large rock on the ground. She wouldn’t want to accidentally lock eyes with Jon Targaryen again.

King Rhaegar dismounts from his horse and approaches them. With a wave of his hand, he motions for the Starks to rise. Sansa rises to her full height, her eyes, unfortunately, meeting with Jon’s for the second time. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably and turns her gaze off to the side. It doesn’t make it any easier for her that he just had to grow up handsome with his father’s perfect cheekbones to match his mother’s beautiful hair. She sticks her nose in the air and keeps her eyes on the carriage. 

The queen steps out beautiful and regal as always. Blue silk flows behind Lyanna Stark as the northern wind catches her skirts. Her lady mother had always resented Lyanna Stark. Sansa glances to the queen, trying to find it in herself to hate Lyanna too. Lyanna smiles at both her and Arya so sweetly that she can’t find it in her to harbor ill will towards the queen. Lyanna stands by her husband’s side before he addresses the Starks.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been North,” Rhaegar finally speaks. “I wish I could have come sooner.”

“It’s a long journey from King’s Landing, your grace. We are fortunate that you could set aside the time to make the journey.” Her father bows his head to pay his respect to the king—a king he hardly cares for but must serve. Rhaegar and her father aren’t friendly, but her father tries to be whenever they must see each other. Sansa is grateful that it isn’t often.

“I’ve missed you, Ned,” Lyanna says. “I wish we could see each other more often.”

“You haven’t any idea how often my wife speaks of you,” Rhaegar says. “She wishes you could be at King’s Landing with us.”

“You both are very kind, but my place is in Winterfell,” her father answers.

Sansa squares her shoulders and tries to appear contented to see the royal family. She feigns a smile as she glances at the carriage. The worst part of the family steps out of the carriage—Viserys and his sister Daenerys. Sansa chews her bottom lip in frustration. Jon is disagreeable at times, but Viserys is hot-tempered and foul. Daenerys was sweeter as a child, but the last time she had visited Winterfell, she appeared to be taking after Viserys more so than Rhaegar. It would seem that Targaryen madness favors Aerys’ children more often than not.

Daenerys scowls at Sansa. Sansa avoids her gaze and accidentally meets Jon’s gaze. He smiles at her. Daenerys huffs as if she disapproves of Jon even making eye contact with her. Viserys tilts himself to Daenerys in a way that Robb would never dare stand with her or Arya. Sansa wonders if they are to be wed soon and the thought makes her stomach churn. She’ll never understand the Targaryen’s customs or pretend to find them agreeable. 

“Why are we here, brother?” Viserys groans. “It’s so dreary.”

“It’s important that we visit the queen’s family,” Rhaegar answers. “Viserys, please try to be respectful.”

Viserys scoffs in response. “This man went to war against us. If I were king—“

“But you aren’t,” Rhaegar says dismissively. “I’m not asking you to be respectful as your brother. I’m demanding it of you as your king.”

“Fine!” Viserys says with a huff and turns his attention back to Daenerys. His hand lazily runs through Daenerys’ silver hair. Sansa manages a glance at Arya, their mutual disgust shared in one glance. Daenerys shoves Viserys off of her and steps away from him. It’s becoming so clear to Sansa why her father so readily sided with Robert Baratheon.

“I really wish I wasn’t here right now,” Arya whispers.

Sansa swallows nervously. “As do I.”

It might be the first time the sisters ever agreed on anything.

Rhaegar steps forward to look upon each of the Starks. Robb bows his head obediently as if he were already Lord of Winterfell. “You’ve grown much taller since I last saw you. I’ve heard you’re great with a sword. Perhaps you can spar with my son one day.”

“There could be no greater honor than to spar with a man trained by Ser Arthur Dayne, your grace,” Robb replies, perfectly and lordly.

“You’ve grown quite pretty, Sansa,” Rhaegar compliments. 

“Thank you, your grace,” Sansa curtsies and feigns her sweetest smile. When she rises, she manages to catch Daenerys’ furious gaze. The weight of stress this family always seems to put on her feels as if it’s increased three-fold. Sansa’s eyes glance over to Ser Arthur Dayne merely because he stands the farthest away from Daenerys. Avoiding her gaze suddenly seems so crucial.

“Arya,” Rhaegar says. “I’ve heard such great things about you from my son. You have no idea how happy he is to see you again.”

Arya beams happily at Rhaegar’s words.

“It’s good to see that you’ve recovered from your fall,” Rhaegar says to Bran. “When you fell from that tower the last time I came to Winterfell, I had feared the worst.”

Bran never fell. Viserys had pushed him. That much Sansa is sure of. She glares at Viserys who returns her animosity with a hateful stare and a twisted smile.

“Rickon, you’re growing so tall now,” Rhaegar says. “You’ll make a great soldier one day.”

Rhaegar makes his way back to her father. “My nieces and nephews have all grown into such great little lords and ladies. You have raised them well.”

There’s that constant tension between her father and the king. Sansa can see through the false smile her father puts on for Rhaegar. But, this is how it must be when dealing with the Targaryens. They are the royal family and all of Westeros must welcome them with open arms in spite of their disdain. Sansa glances over to Lyanna. What possibly could Rhaegar Targaryen have that Robert Baratheon lacks? Sansa has yet to meet Lord Baratheon but he must be kind if he’s so close to her father.

“I imagine you’re hungry after your travels, your grace,” her father says. “Dinner has been prepared for you in the great hall.”

* * *

It has been years since Jon has been in the Great Hall of Winterfell. He looks toward the dais, trying to imagine what it might have been like for his mother so many years ago. He imagines his mother sitting next to Lord Stark and smiles at the thought. Brandon and Rickard Stark would have been there too. The smile falls from Jon’s face at the thought of it all. Viserys believes that their executions were justified, but Jon can’t find any world where such deaths could be seen as just. His father still feels regret till this very day for what happened between Brandon, Rickard, and Aerys.

Jon eyes the open spaces at the lord’s table. There’s one between Daenerys and Lord Stark along with one between Robb and Sansa. While Daenerys welcomes his company more than Sansa, Jon would rather not endure Viserys’ fit when he finally makes his way to dinner and discovers that he won’t be sitting next to Daenerys. Jon walks to the dais and sits between Robb and Sansa.

“Ale for the prince,” Robb says to a servant.

“Yes, my lord,” the servant replies obediently.

The servant pours Jon a full mug of ale and sets it before him. Jon takes the mug in hand and says, “Thank you.”

“It is an honor to serve you, your grace.” The servant smiles down at Jon.

Jon glances over to Sansa who is pretty and ladylike as always in her grey dress. She glances at him before darting her eyes away from him. Lady Catelyn had never been fond of him or his mother. While Catelyn Stark did her best to be polite, she didn’t dare hide the disdain behind her proper smiles. Lady Stark was always short with her words and dismissed herself as soon as she possibly could. Jon imagines she’s passed whatever ill will she bore against him to her firstborn daughter.

Jon makes an attempt to correct the animosity between them with flattery. “You look pretty, Lady Sansa.”

“You’re too kind, my prince.” Sansa’s voice is stiff as a board. 

Frustration stirs within him. Flattery works so well when dealing with Margaery Tyrell, but Sansa isn’t buying into it. Not even a little bit. Sansa sips at her wine and tilts away from him dismissively. What could it possibly take to get on this girl’s good side? 

“We don’t have to be enemies, Sansa,” Jon says bluntly.

“Who said we were enemies, your grace? The Starks have pledged fealty to your Great House,” Sansa counters him with sarcasm.

Robb lets out a laugh and leans toward him to whisper. “She takes after her mother, doesn’t she? You might be better off sitting next to Daenerys.”

Jon eyes Viserys walking through the Great Hall to take his seat. He turns to Robb and says, “Trust me. Your father doesn’t want to be in the middle of the hysterics of my uncle if he doesn’t get to be near his _dear sister_.”

“Is there something going on there?” Sansa interrupts— _clearly_ eavesdropping, _obviously_ trying to insult his aunt and uncle who she _definitely_ dislikes. “There’s a history of that sort of marriage in your family.”

“Are you trying to be insulting?” Jon asks.

“No, I’m just curious,” Sansa reverts to hiding behind a pleasant smile. “I am to be a lady to a lordly husband one day. I may be at court in King’s Landing. I want to prepare myself for anything.”

“You’re old enough to marry,” Jon says in a second attempt at pleasant conversation. “What’s stopping you? I assumed that your father would match you with Joffrey Baratheon.”

And, thank the gods he hasn’t already. Joffrey Baratheon is just as foul-tempered as his uncle. Sansa, while a bit full of herself at times, could do much better than to marry the likes of Joffrey Baratheon.

“Oh, I couldn’t leave my father alone,” Sansa says. “He hardly knows what to do with himself without my mother around. Who will fix his cloak when it tears? Once he remarries, then, I shall find myself a husband.”

“You’ll be an old spinster before that day comes,” Robb says. "You're young now and can have your pick. Act now before your beauty fades and you have to settle with whatever miserable old lord will take you."

"Don't compare me to the likes of Aunt Lysa, brother," Sansa retorts. "And, it isn't her appearance that makes her so insufferable. It's her poor demeanor."

The entire hall goes quiet when the king rises. His father had come North with a purpose. But, that purpose is unbeknownst to anyone but the himself. There was talk between his parents about uniting their families and making peace with the past. Jon looks down the table past Sansa, Arya, and Bran to Lord Eddard Stark who sits solemnly by his mother’s side.

“I have come here to make peace with the North. House Targaryen has had a strained relationship with the North since the war, and despite my wife being a Stark, it is not enough to squash our differences,” his father's voice resonates through the hall. “I would like to make peace by asking Lord Eddard Stark to be Hand of the King.”

The same horror that crosses Lord Eddard Stark’s features also crosses Sansa’s features. Sansa whispers to herself, “What about Mace Tyrell? There’s nothing wrong with Mace Tyrell. No, this can’t be…!”

Mace Tyrell is an idiot. That’s what’s wrong with Mace Tyrell. Jon just isn’t rude enough to answer Sansa’s question out loud.

“With all due respect, my king, the position for Hand of the King has already been filled,” Lord Stark argues. “It would be an honor to serve the Seven Kingdoms, but my place is in Winterfell.”

“Robb Stark is old enough now to take care of matters in Winterfell,” his father argues. “I’ve heard of your honesty from my wife, Lord Stark. You fought for what you believed to be right. I have long forgiven you. I wish to clean up the corruption in the Seven Kingdoms, and you are the perfect man for that job.”

Sansa is dabbing fresh tears with a handkerchief. It would seem that she’s accepted the inevitable long before her father has.

“I…” Lord Stark pauses and finally admits to defeat. “It would be an honor to serve my king.”

Sansa tosses her handkerchief down on the table in a huff. Her chair scrapes the stone floor before she rises from her seat and storms off. 

“I don’t see why she’s so upset,” Jon says. “It’s not as if my father asked her to go with Lord Stark.”

“You don’t know Sansa like I do,” Robb says. “When our mother died, she made a promise to watch over our father. Wherever our father goes, she follows.” 

Viserys and Daenerys don’t think highly of Sansa. Sansa doesn’t think highly of Viserys or Daenerys either. Jon puts his head in his hands and shakes his head. His father’s proposal could be a recipe for disaster. He lets out a frustrated groan. On top of dealing with Viserys’ hot temper and Daenerys’ sudden clingy demeanor toward him, now he must be the mediator between his family and Sansa Stark. Jon grabs the mug of ale from the table and downs the last of it. It’s not like the situation could get worse.

“I’m sure Robert Baratheon will be just _thrilled_ ,” Robb comments.

Jon coughs as he nearly chokes on the last of his ale. This might be the worst decision his father ever made.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
